


Kind of Like Kermit?

by metroelephant



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-13
Updated: 2016-04-13
Packaged: 2018-06-01 22:53:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6539848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/metroelephant/pseuds/metroelephant
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek may have been turned into a frog, but Stiles' life still isn't a fairytale, is it?</p><p>Or, Stiles finds Derek as a frog and they have to figure out how to change him back.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kind of Like Kermit?

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to withyourteeth and thatdamneddame for betaing this for me. It was a mess when it was sent to them and they deserve so much credit for making it readable.

There was a frog in his house. A bullfrog to be exact.

 

Stiles had come home to hear what sounded like a sad, broken kazoo coming from his kitchen. His dad was upstairs sleeping, he was working the third shift that night, so Stiles walked warily to the kitchen, grabbing the baseball bat he kept by the front door on the way. Upon further inspection, he actually found that no, a lonely kazoo player had not broken into and set up shop in his home, but rather a bullfrog had. Stiles stopped short when he walked into the kitchen and saw the bulbous green amphibian croaking, looking vaguely pissed off. He swore under his breath and cautiously approached the frog, trying not to startle it into hopping away. Surprisingly it didn’t move, it just stared at him, looking as if it was judging him for creeping around his kitchen. 

 

The last time he’d had a frog in his house was when he had decided to adopt the tadpoles in the pond in his backyard when he was seven and brought them to live in the kitchen sink, much to his mother’s chagrin. His father had taken them outside in the middle of the night, hoping that Stiles wouldn’t notice (he did). Stiles didn’t give up, though, and adopted more, this time hiding them in his room. Watching his father chase a frog around the house is one of Stiles’s fondest memories.

 

“Heeeey there, buddy. Whatcha doing in here?” Stiles spoke soothingly as he approached. When he got close enough he reached out to pick it up, he expected the frog to try and get away, expected he’d have to chase him around the kitchen, expected to get his just desserts for having laughed at his father all those years ago. But it didn’t. Instead, it watched as Stiles moved closer.

 

Stiles gently picked the frog up, cradling it in his hands. He crossed the kitchen to the back door, struggled to open the door without dropping it (motherfucker was  _ big _ ), eventually managing to get it open enough to set the frog down on his back porch before turning around to retreat inside the house.

 

Only--only when he closed the kitchen door again and turned around to face the room, there was the frog, sitting in the middle of his kitchen floor, croaking, throat expanding like a paper bag during one of his panic attacks. “Well, shit.” Stiles went for the frog again, which somehow looked even grumpier than before, but still let itself be picked up and carried to the door.

 

Stiles walked to the other side of the porch with it this time, and set the frog down. “Stay,” he ordered. Before closing the door fully, Stiles stole a glance to the center of the kitchen, just to be sure. Relieved that there was no sign of the frog, Stiles eased the door closed. The click of the lock was followed by a deep croak. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” Stiles said, the frog inside once again.

 

A half an hour later, the frog was still in the Stilinski kitchen and Stiles was frustrated and sweating from running back and forth, trying to get rid of it. He was suddenly feeling a lot more sympathetic to his dad’s struggle all those years ago. “Okay. Okay, you know what? Fine. You win. You can be my new pet. I’ll name you George and buy you a leash and you can eat any and all bugs and spiders that happen to make their way into my room.” The frog somehow managed to look appalled. Stiles laughed until his ribs hurt.

 

Stiles took George up to his room, dug out a big box to put him in, and set it on his desk while he booted up his laptop. Opening a google tab, Stiles set out to learn everything he could about bullfrogs. Countless hours, websites, and even a few youtube videos later, when he heard his dad getting up for work, he got ready for bed. After brushing his teeth and washing his face, he grabbed a large bowl of water, setting it in the box next to the frog before lying in bed and pulling the covers up to his armpits. “‘Night, George. Sleep well,” he mumbled before drifting off to the sound of buzzing ribbits.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Stiles would have liked to say he woke up late the next morning from the sun streaming in through the windows. He would have liked to have been able to say that, but he couldn’t because Stiles was rudely woken up early the next morning to a clammy lump settled on his face. Right as he was opening his eyes to figure out what was smushed up against his cheek, he felt a further weight pressing into his nose and heard an unmistakable croak.

 

Stiles sat up so fast that the frog tumbled onto his lap before he even knew what was happening. The frog gave Stiles a reproachful look that somehow managed to say,  _ wow, rude _ , or at least, that was what Stiles thought the frog would be saying, if the frog could speak.

 

“Ugh, don’t give me that look. You were the one getting your frog slime all over my face,” he said, aggressively wiping at his face as he got out of bed and headed for the bathroom to take a long hot shower. As he was getting dressed, the doorbell rang.

 

Stiles swung the front door open to find a semi-frantic looking Scott on the other side.. “Is Derek here?” Scott asked before Stiles could say anything.

 

“No,” Stiles replied, slowly. “I haven’t seen him in a couple of days. Why would he be here?”

 

Scott let out a frustrated sound. “Isaac called me this morning. Derek’s missing. Isaac said he hasn’t been home in two nights and he seemed really worried, so we followed his scent around town.”

 

“Okay,” Stiles turned and walked back into the house, leaving the front door open and continuing to talk, assuming Scott would follow. “Let me just grab my shoes and let my dad know I’m going out and I’ll come help you look.”

 

“No, that’s just it, Stiles. I followed his scent here.”

 

Stiles’ eyebrows knit together as he looked up from where he was bent over pulling on his shoes. “Here?”

 

“Yeah, or at least I’m pretty sure it was his scent. We tracked him around town for a while before his scent lead to the woods. But then it changed.”

 

“It changed how?”

 

“It got… more earthy? It was still  _ Derek _ , dude, just a more earthy Derek. Then I followed that scent back here.”

 

“Well, do you smell him now?”

 

Scott sniffed the air. “Yeah. Yeah, it still smells like he’s here.”

 

“Okay, but I haven’t seen him. Oh, man, if someone killed Derek and hid him in my basement I’m going to be pissed.”

 

“Stiles.”

 

“Right, okay, dude. Follow your nose, and hopefully it won’t lead to a dead body in my basement.”

 

Scott rolled his eyes but started to sniff the air anyway, looking like a dog searching for the bone he buried in the backyard. Stiles followed him across the living room and into the kitchen. “It really smells like him in here. Like, a lot.” He glanced around like Derek was going to be hiding behind a chair or the coffee maker. When he didn’t see him there, Scott headed up the stairs.

 

Scott made his way down the hall and into Stiles’ room when he stopped short in the doorway. Stiles rammed into his back, nearly falling on his ass as he tried to catch his balance. “Ow, what is it?”

 

Scott breathed in deeply, looking around. “I think he’s in here.”

 

Stiles gave him a skeptical look. “In my bedroom?”

 

“Yeah.” Scott answered, starting to move again. He walked around the room, breathing slow and deep, trying to sniff him out. He opened up the closet door, ruffling through the plaid shirts and rarely worn suit jackets as if Derek might have just accidentally hung himself up.

 

Scott closed the closet door, looking more and more frustrated the longer it took to find Derek. Stiles was about to suggest heading back to the woods to try and retrace his steps again when Scott stopped in front of his bed.

 

“Uh, Stiles,” Scott started slowly. “Is there a reason your bed would smell like Derek?”

 

Stiles eyebrows furrowed. “Not to my knowledge, no.”

 

Stiles stared at the bed like he’d never seen it before. Excluding the one time Derek broke into Stiles’ room after he accused him of murder, the closest Derek’s ever come to Stiles’ bed was in his fantasies.

 

“Uh, Stiles,” Scott said again, snapping him out of his daze. His eyes shot up to Scott’s face, but Scott wasn’t looking at him. Instead he was looking at a big bullfrog sunbathing at the foot of his bed.

 

“George?” he said weakly.

 

Scott leaned in closer and sniffed. “Derek?” he asked cautiously.

 

_ Jug-o-rum  _ was the reply he got from the frog. Stiles was stunned. The frog that refused to leave his kitchen was Derek. The frog who woke him up by sitting on his face was  _ Derek _ . It just wasn’t fair that the one time Stiles woke up with Derek sitting on his face was when he was in frog form. That was not how that particular fantasy was supposed to go.

 

“If you’re Derek, bleat three times,” Scott said.

 

“Bleat? Bleating is for sheep, man. Frogs ribbit. Tell him to ribbit three ti-” Before he could finish his sentence, the frog let out three long  _ jug-o-rum _ s.

 

The two boys stared, open mouthed. Stiles blinked several times in succession and closed his mouth. “You know, he kind of sounds like a lightsaber,” he said.

 

Scott stared at him blankly. 

 

“Scott, you may not have seen the movies, but I know you know what a lightsaber is!”

 

Scott shot him a look that landed somewhere between sheepish and exasperated. “I know what a lightsaber is, Stiles, but do you really think  _ now _ is the time for that?”

 

“What? It was an observation. Just like my other observation that we need to find a way to change Derek back.”

 

Scott rolled his eyes. "Okay. So how do we change him back?"

 

"You're asking me that? How should I know?"

 

"Well, you were the one who figured out the werewolf thing."

 

"Yeah but that was different. We don't even know how this happened." They both turned to Derek, as if hoping he would give them an answer. _ Jug-o-rum. _

 

Stiles groaned. "You're so helpful," he said sarcastically.

 

"Do you think this could be a shapeshifter thing? Like the kanima?" 

 

Stiles sighed as he sat down in his desk chair, rubbing his forehead. "I don't know, man. I mean with Jackson, he turned into something human sized and it was when he was bitten. As far as we know, Derek hasn't had any major changes lately. Everything's been pretty calm here." Stiles gave Scott a wry half smile. "In fact, this feels less monster movie and more fairytale to me."

 

Scott looked up, an evil grin on his normally innocent looking face. "Maybe someone just needs to kiss him then."

 

Stiles wrinkled his face in disgust. "Scott, I said it sounds like a fairytale, not that we're in a fairytale."

 

"Okay, well then let's go to Deaton's and see if he knows anything."

 

"Yeah. Yeah, that sounds good."

 

“Okay, I’ll text Isaac to meet us there.”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Isaac was already at Deaton’s when Stiles and Scott arrived.

 

“Ah, Scott, Stiles, there you are. Isaac here has informed me that Derek is missing.”

 

“Well,” Stiles said as he walked through the door, holding a little cardboard shipping box. “He’s not missing anymore, but we might have another problem.” He set the box down on the examining table, and all four men peered in.

 

“He’s a frog,” Scott stated.

 

“Oh my,” Deaton said. “This does pose a problem.”

 

Isaac stared, round eyed and mouth open wide like he was trying to catch flies. "Can you fix him?"

 

"I can try. First we need to figure out how this happened. Any ideas?" Deaton's locked eyes with each boy in turn. Stiles hated when he did that. It was uncomfortable and too intimate feeling, like he was penetrating his soul.

 

When Deaton’s eyes reached Isaac's, he shifted uncomfortably, breaking eye contact first. "I  _ told  _ him not to talk to that witch alone."

 

"Ah. Well that would explain it," Deaton said at the same time that Scott slapped his own forehead and grumbled something probably only Isaac could hear under his breath.

 

Stiles stared down into the box, furrowing his eyebrows. "You," he said to the frog (Derek. Derek, he reminded himself) staring up at him, "are an idiot."

 

The frog croaked as if in offense.

 

"Maybe someone should kiss him," Isaac suggested.

 

Scott looked up brightly at him. "That's what I said!"

 

Stiles groaned. "We're not in a fairytale," he protested.

 

"Yeah, but people don't tend to get turned into frogs in real life," Scott argued.

 

"People aren't supposed to be werewolves in real life either, but here you are," Stiles snapped. "No fairytale story involved."

 

Scott opened his mouth to protest some more, but Deaton beat him to it. "Enough," he said calmly. "I don't think kissing Derek will be necessary."

 

"Then how are we going to get him back to normal?" Isaac asked.

 

"I have some books here that may help. I suggest that we go through them while one of you talk to the Argents to see if they know anything. Someone should also go see if they can find the witch who did this to him."

 

"I'll go talk to Allison," Isaac volunteered.

 

Scott winced a little but agreed. "You should probably ask her dad for help, too. He knows more about the supernatural than we do. I'll go look for the witch that did this. Stiles, you and Deaton can stay here and look through the books."

 

"You're going to see the witch alone?" Stiles asked outraged.

 

"Well, yeah. We need to split up to get everything done."

 

"I'm coming with you."

 

"We need you here to research."

 

"Going to see this witch alone is what got Derek into this mess. We don't need two Kermits on our hands. You're not going alone."

 

Scott threw up his hands, frustrated. "You're our best researcher. We need you here." 

 

"Then you're staying with us." Scott opened his mouth to protest but Stiles cut him off. "Isaac and Allison can go to the woods when they're done talking to her dad. They can handle themselves fine and they'll be together. You can stay and help research, since I'm sure Deaton has a business to run."

 

Scott deflated a little. "Yeah, okay," he conceded.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Hours later and the sun had fully set. Isaac and Allison had texted to say they hadn't found anything at the Argent's house about shape-shifted werewolves and were now combing the woods near the preserve looking for the witch.

 

In Deaton's office, Scott's head was laid across a book open on the desk, his hair falling in his eyes, just groaning. Stiles was sitting on the floor, book propped on his knees, glaring at Derek next to him in the box.

 

"You better appreciate this. I have so many paper cuts because of you," he said, violently turning a page.

 

Stiles jumped when the sound of a sappy love song blared out of Scott's phone.

 

"Allison," Scott said into the speaker when he picked up. "Yeah... Yeah."

 

"What? What? What's going on?" Stiles whispered furiously. "Put it on speaker phone!"

 

Scott waved him off. "Okay." He paused and Stiles tried to grab the phone from his hands. 

 

Scott waved his hands around, trying to swat him away. Stiles made a sound of protest. "Scott," he said, not even whispering. "What is she saying?"

 

When Scott continued to ignore him, Stiles decided it was time for slightly more drastic measures. He rammed his shoulder into Scott's side, flailing when he bounced off Scott like he hit a brick wall, accidentally kicking over Derek’s box.

 

"Oh, shit, Derek," Stiles said from the ground, glancing at the upturned box. He tried to sit up quickly, wincing and bringing a hand up to the back of his head. "Oh,  _ ow." _

 

Rubbing the back of his head, he crawled the short distance to the box. "Derek?" he asked, lifting it up off the floor. A loud croak escaped the box, and when he lifted it completely up, Derek was once again glaring at Stiles.

 

"Sorry, bro," Stiles said before turning back to Scott and his phone call.

 

"I'll be there as soon as I can... Okay, yeah. Yeah. Bye." Scott ended the call and turned toward Stiles, who gestured for Scott to tell him what that was all about.

 

"Dude,  _ boundaries _ . We've talked about this."

 

"You didn't seem to care very much about boundaries when you and Allison started dating." Scott was about to protest, and although Stiles wasn't sure what he could even say to that, he didn't wait to find out. "Anyway, what's going on with Isaac and Allison? Did they find the witch?" 

 

Scott shook his head. "No. Isaac thinks he can smell a trace of her and we might be able to track her down, but he wants a second opinion before he goes looking."

 

Scott stood up and when Stiles started to follow, he raised an eyebrow. “What?” Stiles asked. “We should get going if they’re going to find her before she disappears completely.”

 

“Stiles,” Scott started slowly. “I think maybe you should stay here.”

 

Stiles sputtered indignantly. “What?” He raised his voice. “Why?”

 

“Well, if this doesn’t work out then we’re still going to need to find a way to change him back ourselves, so you should still research.” Stiles was about to protest when Scott cut him off again. “Anyway, someone needs to stay with Derek.”

 

“Derek’s small! I can just put him in my pocket.” Scott just raised his eyebrows, looking down at Derek, expression skeptical. “Ish. Small- _ ish _ . Whatever. I have big pockets.”

 

Scott opened his mouth but before he could say anything, Derek let out a croak that almost sounded like a growl. “Derek doesn’t seem to like that plan, man. And we really do need you on research.”

 

Stiles scowled but sat back down as Scott raced out of the vet's office. "This is your fault," Stiles said down to the frog in his lap.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Some time later, after Stiles had scoured through more books than he cared to count, he finally came across something that seemed promising. 

 

"A-ha!" He shouted, jumping up a little and almost toppling Derek off his lap. "Oops, sorry, bro."

 

He grabbed his phone, immediately calling Scott. "Hey man," he said into the receiver. "How's the witch hunt going?"

 

Scott groaned through the phone. "Not good. It's like she just disappeared completely. Her scent is just gone."

 

Stiles grinned a little. "Maybe she flew away on her broomstick," he suggested.

 

"Stiles.”

 

"Magic carpet?"

 

" _ Stiles."  _ Scott must have been really frustrated because he was usually one of the only people who generally thought Stiles was funny.

 

"Okay, okay. Don't worry so much about the witch then. I've bookmarked a few possibilities, but this last one I just found seems really promising."

 

"Yeah?" He sounded hopeful.

 

Stiles grinned for real now. "Yeah, man. Want to help me try it out?"

 

"Definitely. I'll have Isaac and Allison keep looking for the witch and meet you at yours in twenty minutes?"

 

"Sounds good," Stiles responded before hanging up.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Stiles and Scott stared down at the bathtub dubiously. 

 

"Dude, this looks like the beginnings of a bad soup," Scott said, wrinkling his nose down at the mixture in the tub. "And it smells like a candle store."

 

"Yeah, well, have you found any better solutions? No? I didn't think so." Stiles sighed loudly. "Okay let's just go over the ingredients one more time to make sure we haven't left anything out and then let's do this."

 

"Okay." Scott nodded firmly.

 

Stiles held the book firmly in his hands while reading off the list of ingredients like he was cooking. "Agrimony, to remove a curse, hex, or jinx."

 

"Check."

 

"Hyssop, for purification."

 

"Check."

 

"Rosemary, to protect against evil."

 

"Check."

 

"And a pinch of rock salt to draw it out."

 

"Check."

 

"Okay, great. Now we need to stir it all together three times counter clockwise in the warm water," he said as he began to do that. "And that should do it."

 

Stiles turned around to grab Derek off from the bathroom counter. He leaned over the tub and unceremoniously drop him into the bath water. Stiles and Scott waited with bated breath.

 

After a while, Scott asked, "how long is it supposed to take?"

 

Stiles exhaled long and loud. "Not this long."

 

Scott groaned, frustrated. "Okay, so what's next on your list of solutions?" he asked, rubbing his temples.

 

"It's in my room," Stiles said sullenly, upset that his brilliant find hadn't worked. "We'll get it after we clean up here."

 

They took Derek out and drained the tub, watching the concoction swirl away. "Ugh, this is so going to clog my drains."

 

"I told you we should have just used a pot in the kitchen to do this," Scott said.

 

"Okay, but human Derek wouldn't fit in a pot on the stove. That would have created quite the problem if this had worked."

 

"Yeah, yeah," Scott conceded. "Let's go get that list now."

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


They tried everything on Stiles’s (admittedly short) list and Derek  still sat croaking discontentedly next to them . Scott, tired and frustrated from a long day, finally just stared point blank at Stiles. "We're just going to have to kiss him, dude."

 

"Whoa, what," Stiles sputtered. "Why?"

 

"It's the only thing that I can think of that we haven't tried yet!"

 

Stiles ran a hand down his face, groaning. "Aaagh. Fine then kiss him," he said, gesturing to Derek, who was sitting on his desk.

 

"What? Why me?" Scott asked alarmed.

 

"Because this is your brilliant plan!"

 

"Okay but that doesn't mean I should be the one to kiss him."

 

"And why not?"

 

"Because I don't want to!"

 

"And I do?" Stiles asked shrilly.

 

Scott raised an eyebrow but didn’t push the subject. "Okay, okay. We’ll rock paper scissors it. Loser has to kiss Derek."

 

Stiles stared at him, forehead wrinkled, trying to figure out if Scott's enhanced werewolf senses could help him cheat at rock paper scissors. When he came up with nothing, he relented. "Fine. On the count of three."

 

They held their fists out in front of them, shaking them a little while chanting, “one, two, three!” in unison.

 

"Yeah, baby!" Stiles fist pumped in victory. "Paper beats rock!"

 

Scott screamed, dragging a hand down his face. “No! Redo."

 

“No way, buddy. Pucker up and lay one on him,” Stiles said gleefully. Scott looked completely defeated.

 

He stepped toward the desk to grab Derek, but just as he was about to reach him, Derek jumped away. Scott tried again, and again Derek slipped past his grasp. Scott tried to just kiss him without touching him, thinking that for some reason that might be the problem, but still Derek wouldn't let him. After the third attempt, it was clear that Derek did not want Scott near him.

 

Scott turned to Stiles. "He won't let me near him! You're just going to have to take one for the team, Stiles."

 

"Whoa, hey, why would he let me kiss him, but not you?" Scott just gave him a pointed look. Stiles knew exactly what that look said. It said  _ you know why. _

 

And okay so maybe there has been some flirting between them before. And maybe Stiles had wanted to kiss Derek for a while now, and maybe Derek felt the same way, but not as a  _ frog.  _ Stiles didn’t want to kiss a  _ frog. _

 

Stiles managed to pick Derek up, get his face real close to his, and then leaned back again. "Yeah, I can't do this man," he said to Scott.

 

Scott rolled his eyes. "Just suck it up and kiss him, Stiles."

 

"Ew, no way. I can't. I saw a National Geographic video on bullfrogs once. They can eat birds and scorpions and  _ each other _ . What if he tries to eat my tongue?"

 

"I'm not asking you to French the frog, Stiles! Just kiss him."

 

"He's slimy," Stiles said petulantly, grasping for an excuse.

 

"It's not slime. It's mucus."

 

"Mucus. He's  _ mucus-y _ . Want to know what else is mucus-y, Scott? Snot. Snot is mucus-y. And you want me to put my lips on that? That, well frankly, that is disgusting."

 

"Stiles, come on. It's Derek. As much as we all want to deny it, we like him. As a human. Now kiss him."

 

Stiles whined a little in the back of his throat, but he lifted Derek toward his face again anyway. He closed his eyes tight and planted his lips on the amphibian back. 

 

Nothing happened. Stiles turns to Scott to tell him that his plan is stupid when the frog in his hands started getting heavier. Startled, Stiles dropped him on the floor.

 

When Stiles looks down, Derek was sprawled out on the floor, naked but decidedly human again. Stiles and Scott stared down at him, open mouthed until Derek rasped out, "Could I get some water? And maybe some pants, too."

 

Stiles scrambled to his dresser to pull out a pair of loose sweats and a t-shirt while Scott went to the kitchen to grab a glass of water. 

 

Once Derek was dressed, Stiles turned to face him, startled at finding him closer than he expected. "So," Derek began. "Uh, thanks for turning me back." There was a ghost of a smile on his face as he took a step closer to Stiles.

 

Stiles’s heartbeat raced and he pressed his lips together. "It was, uh, no problem." He moved half a step closer, putting his hands on Derek's arms.

 

"You know, that wasn't how I imagined our first kiss would be."

 

Stiles managed a small smile and looked Derek in the eyes. "You've thought about our first kiss?"

 

Derek echoed Stiles’s smile, placed his hands on Stiles’s belt loops, and paused, staring at Stiles’s mouth. After several long, tense seconds, Stiles took the hint and leaned in to press his lips to Derek's. But before he could get there, Derek pulled away from him.

 

Stiles dropped his hands from Derek's biceps and started to step away from him when Derek gripped his waist. "You can't kiss me now," he said, brilliant white smile lighting up his face. "You've got slime on your lips."

 

Stiles opens his mouth to protest, to shout that it was  _ his _ slime, that it's not even slime, it's mucus, when Derek, trying not to laugh, leaned in anyway and kissed him smack dab on the mouth.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm still not 100% happy with this, but I started it over a year ago and I just need it to be done now. Even so, I hope you enjoyed it.


End file.
